


The Bible Didn't Mention Us

by PBJellie



Series: South Park Kink Meme Requests [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst and Porn, BDSM, Crying, Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, South Park Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Pip makes dinner for Damien, and it goes poorly, like most other things. Damien has accepted that as the reality of the situation.Written for the South Park Kink Meme for the request of Praise Kink.





	The Bible Didn't Mention Us

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Regina Specktor song, Samson.

"I'm so happy you're home," Pip hummed, scurrying around the kitchen as Damien stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed. 

"Not even gone a full day," he huffed, walking straight to the worn couch to pull off his shoes.

"I still missed you," Pip turned to smile at Damien, eyes open wide as the timer on the oven beeped. "I always miss you." 

"Because you don't do anything all day," he rolled his eyes as he pulled at the laces of his boots. "You just sit here and watch TV, like a bored housewife. Get a job or something, and you'd miss me less." 

"Oh," Pip slipped oven mitts on his hands, "I guess that's true." He fumbled with the over door, flinching as it slammed shut. Damien snorted as he stretched out lengthwise on the couch, socked feet resting against the throw pillows. 

"Doubt it," Damien sneered. Pip wasn't good at things. He had not been for a long time, he thought. "You made dinner, that's nice."

"You really think so?" He perked up, turning to look at Damien. 

"I really said it," Damien shrugged. How hard was it to make a damn dinner? Not very hard. 

"I, uh," he faltered, still struggling with the oven door, "I have another surprise in the bedroom. I thought you'd want to play when you got home." 

"Do you have dinner?" Damien asked as he flipped on the TV. It wasn't that hard to time dinner to his arrival home. It wasn't like Pip did anything else. He barely even left the house. 

"Did you watch TV while I was gone?" He asked again, realizing the station was the same as it was last night.

"No," he muttered. Damien turned to see him still struggling with the oven door. He had never seen someone struggle so much with basic tasks.

"What did you even do? Did you sleep all day? You know what I said about sleeping all day," Damien chided, watching the news on mute. A guy had died in Denver, good riddance. Maybe he'd get to torture him tomorrow, if his Father didn't make him do paperwork for eight hours. Hell didn't need paperwork, it's not like there was any need for a paper trail. It's Hell, no need to be so strict with the punishments. 

"That it'd make me more sad," Pip recited like a mathematic equation. "I didn't though. I made dinner. It's your favorite." 

"How did you even get it into the oven?" Damien joked, not bothering to rise from his seat as Pip flinched at the slamming door again.

"It took a while," he fumbled with his shaking hands as he pulled on the oven again. 

"Do you need me to do it?" Damien sounded bored, because he was bored. This was a daily occurrence as of late. Pip was unable to complete a basic task for human survival, so Damien had to do it.

"No," he rushed, "I can do it. The meds just make me shaky, that's all. I'll get it, I promise." 

"Then do it," he spat. His eyes glazed over as a man with a bad comb over flapped his mouth. "I don't even think the medicine is helping. It's probably a lost cause at this point." 

"I can stop, if that'd make you happy," he said at a level just loud enough for Damien to hear across the room.

"It'd make me happy for you to be able to leave the Goddamn house without having an episode," and fucking Hell did he have episodes, Damien thought. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to take Pip anywhere. He didn't even go to the psychiatrist anymore, no, that had to be done through a webcam. Damien was the only person he ever saw, and he wasn't even a person. 

"I'll try harder," he smiled, though he sounded sad. 

"Of course you will."

"I got it!" He cheered, like pulling a pan from the oven was some sort of achievement. He clutched the bubbling mixture in his hands as he slowly walked towards the counter.

"Hurray, you did something," he replied in monotone. He watched Pip's hands shake as he tried to set the glass pan onto the counter, and held his breath as he watched it fall to the ground. 

There was a shattering sound, glass splintering into little pieces. Damien groaned, as he heard Pip yelp, and fought back a laugh as he jumped backwards and fell onto his ass. Of course he did, that's what Pip was good at, fucking things up. 

"Oh no," he whimpered, staring at a saucy mess on the ground. "This is bad." 

"You hurt?" Damien asked, reluctantly getting off of the couch and jogging to the kitchen. He slowed his gait as Pip shook his head, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

"It was lasagna, you're favorite so I could make you happy, but I couldn't even do that right. Let me make you something else? Do you want a sandwich?"

"So you can drop it on the ground, too?" He snarked before he had thought through the repercussions of his actions. Pip was now sobbing on the floor, hands covering his face until Damien pulled him to his feet. 

"I can't do anything right," he cried, hands still shaking in Damien's grip. "I'm so sorry, I'll just go to the bedroom and wait for you there. I bet I'll ruin that part of your day, too. I'm such a bother."

Damien's eyebrows were raised as Pip scampered towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He sighed, opening the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk. He drank it in a hurry, debating on if he should pour one for Pip as well. Had Pip eaten today? The kitchen was clean, but as he stood in the middle of the room, he noticed the gentle hum of the dishwasher. 

He must have spent his whole day trying to make the lasagna. He had let it slip one time that he like lasagna, in a passing conversation in middle school, and he socked the information away, saving it until they were in their first apartment. This was when Pip was still capable of leaving the house, even if it made him anxious, before the psychiatrists and therapists. He walked himself to the local grocery store in the strange new town, and bought all the things for the meal. 

It was burnt, and he didn't realize he had to cook the pasta before hand, but it was a kind gesture. Not that Damien craved kindness from humans, but he recognized it when it bit him in the face. He had grinned, in the newlywed phase of their relationship, and lied to Pip. Saying it was the best lasagna he had ever had, even when Pip tried it and grimaced. 

"Pip," he called out, deciding to not bring him a glass of milk. He dug around in the cabinets for a bowl, somewhat surprised to find a clean one. Pip rarely did housework, he couldn't find the energy he said. But there in the cabinet were at least half of the bowls, and come to think of it, there hadn't been any dishes in the sink. He decided against having him eat the lasagna from the floor, and instead stuck the clean bowl back into the cabinet.

Slowly he walked towards the bedroom, stopping outside the door to listen for Pip. He didn't seem to be crying, which was always a plus. He knocked twice, then opened the door away. 

"Pip?" He asked as he flicked on the light. He didn't answer immediately, but he did make eye contact. 

"Sorry," he whimpered, sitting bare assed in a wooden chair. "I deserved to be punished." 

"Are we playing?" Damien wondered. Something leather caught his eye on the bed, lots of leather. Pip had taken every toy out of it's hiding place and lined them up on their bedspread. 

"Sure," he said through clinched teeth. "Play with me, sir." 

"Okay," he cautiously said, fingering a whip as he glanced at Pip shifting on the chair, dick in a Gates of Hell. "I see you got ready without me."

"Is that a problem, sir?" He stared at the whip in Damien's hands, trembling when he popped it, not ever bothering to look at Damien. 

"No," he said softly, looking at Pip's swollen eyes. "Do you want me to punish you?" He was not used to this type of behavior. The stoic nature of his submissive sitting in a chair, unable to look at him, was out of the ordinary. 

"Yes," he gritted his teeth, eyes following the whip as it hung at Damien's side. "Yes, sir." 

"Why?" He asked, put off by his willingness to be beaten.

"Because I deserve it," he choked out, eyes still focused on the whip. 

"What?" Damien stopped moving towards him, dropping the whip to the ground. 

"I didn't call you sir, you're supposed to hit me," Pip protested, still not meeting Damien's eyes. "Those are the rules." 

"Fuck the rules," Damien hissed, taking another moment to really look at Pip. He hung his head, chin resting against his chest, right above a pair of nipple clamps. Clamps that, a few months ago, Pip had complained hurt him too bad, and he swore he would never use them again.

"Just fuck me," Pip swallowed. "Just use me and beat me and fuck me, before I can't do this anymore, either, sir." 

"Damn it, the horse, the pretend one with the horn," Damien shouted, taking a few steps back to sit on the edge on the bed, still fully clothed. "The safeword Pip, time out, the fucking pony thing you used to think was real." 

"Unicorn?" He sighed, not looking up. "You're so upset at me, that you don't even want to fuck me?"

"No," Damien said sternly as Pip collapsed in on himself further. "I don't want to beat you, though." 

"Why not?" Pip mumbled, twisting on of the clamps a little bit tighter. 

"Stop it," Damien commanded. "I fucking mean it," he repeated as Pip continued to toy with the clamps. 

"We're not playing," Pip grimaced, still tightening the clamp. "I'm allowed to hurt myself, even if you don't want to." 

"I don't want you to hurt yourself," the words came out like vomit as he jumped to his feet. Gently, he pulled Pip's hands away, undoing the clamps and throwing them across the room. He looked at the red welts that were forming and frowned, ghosting his fingers over the marks. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," Pip still wasn't making eye contact. "Let's just have sex, sir." 

"Why?" Damien prodded, deciding it would be best to remove the Gates of Hell. He carefully threaded Pip's soft penis through the rings, setting it next to the chair when he was finished.

"I'm still good at sex," he admitted, giving Damien a split second of eye contact. Something electric shot through Damien, something painful, when he saw the hurt in his blue eyes. "There's not much other reason to be with me. I wanted to make you happy." 

"There are lots of reasons to be with you," he said as delicately as he could. 

"Name one?" Pip dared, lifting his head. "The sex, that's it. I don't even leave the house anymore." 

"You're sick," Damien started, only to be cut off by Pip.

"I dropped your dinner," he groaned. "I did that all day and I dropped it. I don't do anything important anymore. You used to say I was your favorite play thing, but you don't even say that anymore." 

"You're my favorite person," Damien cupped his face, pulling his chin up. "Period, the end. I love you. Work is stressful and this is my fault, I'm sorry." 

"You didn't, I don't, ugh," Pip pulled away, looking back at the whip. "It'd be better if you just beat me. Teach me a lesson." 

"There's no lesson," Damien cooed, holding his face again. "I don't want to hurt you when you're like this."

"You don't want to touch me," Pip sighed, getting out of the chair and stacking all of the items from the bed into a box. His hands lingered on a remote control butt plug, something they had ordered off of Amazon, ages ago. Damien smiled a little, remembering past times it was used on Pip. He'd start the toy, then stop it, over and over, until Pip was begging to come. How long had it been since Damien allowed Pip to come?

He couldn't remember.

"Put it in," Damien ordered, still smiling. "We can play, you wanted to, didn't you?" 

"You said you didn't want to," Pip dropped the toy into the box, dejected. "I'm sick." 

"I'm offering to play," Damien pushed, rummaging for lube in the box with their toys. "I'll prep you, that was your favorite, wasn't it?" 

"Uh-huh," he nodded, eyes wide. "I like when you touch me." 

"I like touching you," he smirked as he rubbed slick hands together. "Lean over the bed, okay? That's a good boy," he praised as Pip followed instructions. "Look at you, so obedient and good for me." 

"W-what are you doing?" He stuttered. "You don't say those things." 

"I am saying them," Damien fought to keep his tone kind as he traced his hand around Pip's asshole. "You didn't call me sir, but I'll forgive it. Only because you're so good for me." 

"Sir?" He asked, clinching his ass together as Damien slid a finger in. 

"Relax," he ordered, voice well below a yell. "It won't feel good, if you tense up." 

"Why are you saying this stuff?" Pip asked. "Sir," he hurriedly tacked on. 

"You remembered to call me Sir," Damien grinned, using his other hand to trace patterns near Pip's jaw. "That's very good of you. You must be so smart to remember my instructions as you're getting fingered." 

"I guess, Sir," he moaned, spreading his legs a little as Damien built up a slow rhythm. 

"Does it feel nice? I want you to feel nice," Damien sang as added another finger. "Look at you, you're taking my fingers like a champ." 

"Yes sir," he panted, curling his toes as Damien pushed against his prostate. 

"You're so accommodating, I love that about you," Damien added, still stroking his prostate. 

"Sir?" Pip shouted frantically. "I need a ring. I'm going to," he moaned mid sentence, "disappoint, hnnnn, you."

"An obedient pet comes for his master," Damien ordered, adding another finger. "You deserve to feel satisfied." 

"Sir!" He groaned, pushing back onto his fingers as he trembled against the bed. "Coming," he panted, "coming, oh God." 

"We're not done," Damien teased, still moving his fingers as Pip shook below him. "You followed my instructions, I'm proud of you." 

"Yes, sir," he keened, scrambling to grab the sheets with his hands.

"You're so pretty," he whispered as he pulled his fingers away, shoving the toy in place. "I could spend the rest of forever touching you." He started the toy on this lowest setting and sat Pip upright on the bed, semen smeared into his navel. 

"Master," he blushed, wiggling a bit in his seat. "It feels too good." 

"You're too good," he repeated with a shrug. "It's the only way I can let you know how good you are. Do you need to stop? You know the word, don't you?" He nodded, red to the tips of his ears. 

"Keep going, sir?" He asked, hands fumbling with the bottom of Damien's button up. 

"Ah, ah, ah," he scolded pulling his hands away. "This is all about you." He turned the speed up on the toy and started stroking his dick. "You planned such a nice evening for me. You even set up all of our toys on the bed and sat in the chair without being prompted. You deserve a reward." 

Pip didn't respond, but a breath hissed through his teeth as Damien touched his soft member, massaging it in his hands. 

"A good master cleans up his pet," Damien whispered, barely audible over the buzz of the toy. "I should be a good master, because you're such a good boy. Aren't you?" 

"Yes, sir!" He keened as Damien dipped his head down towards his navel, licking the orgasm off of his stomach. "Oh God, you don't, nnnn, you don't have to do that." 

"I want to," Damien said as he swallowed. "You've got a whole toy in you, and you're writhing in your seat, just for me." Damien's hands worked Pip's penis again, and he smirked as he started to grow hard. "Maybe Master will take tomorrow off and spend the whole day with you, would you like that?" 

"I'd like that," he smiled, not letting Pip answer. One hand was removed from his dick, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear that was tracing it's way down Pip's cheek. "Are you sad?" 

Pip shook his head, letting out squeaks and sobs as Damien made the toy faster. He bucked his hips, whole body shaking as Damien gave him a quick kiss on the lips. 

"You're so special to me," Damien started, feeling his own cheeks heat up. "You're the most important person to me in the whole world. I could have anymore, literally, I could brainwash them and have them, and I pick you. Because you're so thoughtful, and kind, and good." 

"Bloody hell," he groaned, causing Damien to laugh. He didn't think to chastise him for forgetting to call him sir. "I need to come, Damien! Damien!" He shouted, tears falling freely. 

"Come," Damien ordered, as if Pip could control it. He added back his spare hand, fondling his balls as he jacked him off. They stared at each other wordlessly for a few minutes, Pip's frenzied mewls not withstanding, before Damien spoke again.

"I love you," he hummed, not breaking eye contact. "I love you so much, and I want you to be better, but if you're not, I still love you. You're good no matter what, Phillip. You are the best pet in the whole world, the best person, too." 

Pip nodded, biting his lip to keep in the sound. Damien kissed him again, placing Pip's hands on the rough material of his flannel shirt. He fisted the material as they pulled apart, keeping Damien close enough to see his individual freckles. 

"I'm going to put it on the highest setting," Damien explained, "and you're going to come, do you understand?" 

Pip nodded, gasping for air as tears ran down his face. 

"Of course you do, because you're so smart. You're so good at taking that toy," Damien stated, running his fingers over the weeping head of Pip's penis while he pressed the button. "Does it feel nice to be full?" 

Pip nodded, again, releasing his grip and collapsing backwards into the pillows. He shook a bit, holding his breath as Damien smeared precome back down his shaft. 

"Breathe, baby," Damien cooed. "It'll feel so good, just breathe. You're such a good boy, Pip. Don't hold back. I like the face you make when you come. It's cute, just like you. Will you show me?"

Before Pip could answer his eyes were slammed shut, mouth in a tight O, and nose crinkled. He squeezed his body inward, pressing his feet into the bed and letting out breathy high pitched sounds as he orgasmed for a second time. This time there was significantly less semen, hardly any at all, but Damien enjoyed watching it all the same. 

He switched the toy off and removed his hands, while Pip sobbed quietly, scrambling to cover his face with a pillow. Damien rolled him to his side and delicately pulled the toy from his asshole. Pip moaned, spreading his legs once the presence was gone, like he wanted it back. 

"I think we're done for the night, Pip," Damien snuggled into his back, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

"Okay, sir," he choked out, turning in Damien's grip to press his face into his chest. 

"We're done playing. I'm just Damien, sweetheart." 

"Okay," he tried again, the word not any less strangled. 

"You really haven't been well, have you?" Damien asked, talking into Pip's soft hair. 

"I'm good," he stammered, "you said I was good. Was that pretend? God, you were just playing. I'm not really good, you're not in love with me. It was all a game." 

"Stop it," Damien hushed him, "I meant the things I said. All of them. I didn't notice how sick you had gotten, that's all." 

"Am I in trouble?" Pip asked. "Is this break up sex? Are we getting a divorce? I'll starve to death, I can't go to the grocery store. There's too many people. What am I going to do? They'd laugh at me, I'm a joke. You think so, too. I can tell. I can tell." 

"I don't think that," Damien chided. "I was so caught up in work that I didn't notice. I'm sorry." 

"I dropped your dinner on the ground," Pip laughed painfully, "and you're apologizing to me?" 

"There will be more dinners," Damien argued, holding him a bit tighter. "I'll get more stuff for lasagna. First thing in the morning. We can make it together." 

"The psychiatrist wants to meet in person," Pip whispered after a long period of silence. "I'm afraid. She wants to come here." 

"Do you want me to be here?" He felt Pip nod against his chest. "Then I'll tell Dad that his paperwork can get fucked, and take that day off too." 

Damien covered them both with the blanket, maneuvering their bodies off of the comforter as Pip clung to him. He traced patterns on his pack and mumbled nice things into his hair, until his breathing had finally evened out. Damien didn't sleep, he didn't need to. He just rested beside him, taking solace in his body heat.

**Author's Note:**

> The kink meme lives. It's on tumblr, send in requests and write things.


End file.
